A/N: This may actually be the conclusion.

Beta Love: Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, DeepShadows2

Gift From Hell

Chapter 8

If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance.

George Bernard Shaw

Severus stretched lazily as he looped a hand around Hermione's head, pressing her into his neck with a gentle push of his finger claws. His inner hellfiend was content and happy with his mate being happy, and he was willing (or rather more willing) to entertain the fact that his son had brought home a girl that he was genuinely interested in. Interested enough that he was actually willing to introduce her to the family.

She was a Muggle, however, and there was always that possibility that she'd have to be Obliviated if she couldn't handle the secrecy. It would take a special sort of person to accept his son, he knew, but also the family.

They would play nice, however, and keep their supernatural natures hidden until they had a better feeling for her. For their son's sake, at least.

At least with Solange, she was wholly magical in a magical world. While there was definitely much more to her than just being a magic-using member of Wizarding society, glamours could at least hide the less human characteristics until such reveals were more conveniently timed.

Their children were special, he knew. They were a gift. Hermione had come to terms with the idea that she would not be able to have children as a vampire. It had been one of the things she'd thought long and hard about before accepting Mihail's mating bond and subsequent Turn. Children amongst vampires were incredibly rare. Treasured.

A child by a vampire could grow up until their vampiric nature matured with them, unlike a child that had been Turned into a vampire, which would be ruthlessly killed due to the resultant psychological instability

It had been expected that the chances of having two fully magical children in such a coupling would be lower. That both Solange and David were perfectly healthy was a gift in itself. But while Solange had inherited the magic of her parents in full force, David had inherited his physical body type and nose, Sanguini's perfect teeth, and Raka'ku'santi's skin tone. He'd inherited his mum's obsession with knowledge and books, her passion for learning, and her brilliance, even without being born with the ability to wield magic.

For a while, David had wanted to be a dentist like his grandparents. He went around taking moulds of everyone's teeth, fangs, and what have you and pour plaster casts of them all. His room had been filled with cast teeth of all kinds from elder vampire to demon puppy. It had probably looked like some special effects studio for a horror franchise.

But then, David had also wanted to become an astrophysicist and astronomer, filling his nights with stargazing and space theory, using his walls to work out countless equations that looked like Arithmancy and astronomy had a mutant love child on his wall.

That had lasted a fair few years.

But then, David had fallen into love with building things. He decided he wanted to create things. Magic had been a part of the life around him so much so that he felt he wanted to create things on his own.

So he had built a full-scale model of Hogwarts out of toothpicks, plaster, garden stone, and found items around the house using only his sister's copy of Hogwarts: A History for a reference.

And so started his total obsession with architecture.

And while Severus was concerned about the boy finally settling on something he would do for a lifetime, Hermione seemed happy that her son was doing something he enjoyed enough to stick with. David was happy using his hands to create, and while he made some epic blunders in his young life (like trying to murder himself by taking out his liver with alcohol and the time he tried to burn down the house trying to cook up rocket fuel in the kitchen for his school project) he was at least as resilient as well as a quick learner.

And Hermione definitely did not tolerate the kind of rule-bending "but you didn't say that specifically" reasoning that her beloved spawn would occasionally attempt to pull on her. They learned quickly that "no rocket fuel in our kitchen" did not mean such foolhardy shenanigans were acceptable in someone else's kitchen, Severus' potion lab, someone else's lab, the attic, the basement, or the garden shed.

The boy might be a genius, but his mum was Hermione who had not lived through a war, been forced into a role of demon summoner, and married into a vampire-demon quadrumvirate only to be taken for a fool by her own children.

Magically, Solange was as resilient as it came, but physically, David was a supreme specimen. While his sister had a generally frailer constitution to go with her abundance of magic, David had the constitution of a bull elephant, rarely ever got sick in the traditional sense but got queasy around magic and nauseated by the scent of hellfire.

It was probably the only thing that kept him alive, stupid incident after stupid incident. Genius child—dangerous inexperience.

Hermione was snuggling into his shoulder, and Severus couldn't help but smile. There had been a time when he'd fallen for the same misconceptions about vampires that most magical folk did: that undeath took away the ability to truly live. But Hermione, and perhaps especially Sanguini, had proven that being undead did not rob the body of life at all. It simply preserved the spark within. It was no less alive than becoming a demon had changed his ability to feel, savour, and love.

Perhaps, he thought, having become a demon had in fact made it possible for him to savour the gifts he had been given all the more. It felt like his life was now a blessing instead of a curse. His soul had finally been allowed to find peace.

Willow-Lily, however—

She was probably thinking it was more of a curse, living a life without her looks and her magic, two things she'd flaunted easily and often when they were friends.

But his fate was no longer bound to Lily Evans Potter.

To Tom Riddle.

To Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Now, he belonged to the family of his own choosing. Hermione, Mihail, Raka'ku'santi—he even had children.

Severus sighed. "I worry for our son," he confessed. "Not that he's going to pick the wrong person to seal his life to but—he cannot escape being our son."

Hermione snuffled his neck, letting out a deep sigh. "I know. I wish he had more of a choice when it came to certain carnal issues," she replied. "Solange was so completely practical about her virginity, and to be honest most of the people in my schooling days were sexually active long before we had "the talk" with poor Poppy. I'm sure the last thing she felt comfortable with was dispensing sex education to young witches and wizards. I just wanted to stress being safe and consensual and help her to not murder some bloke who tried to push her into something she didn't want."

"Because murder is so common in our family," Severus said dryly.

"Unfortunately," Hermione said as she recalled the seething mob of people that had killed themselves while attempting to murder her and her unborn children. She turned up her mouth into a mischievous smile. "Just think of all the poor, innocent fenders you've murdered."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "They asked for it."

"You keep telling yourself that," Hermione said, pressing a kiss to his chin. "How long should we give our son to iron out the details of what he hadn't told his girlfriend before we need to send in a rescue?"

"Before or after Solange has her wicked way with them?"

Hermione frowned. "He's doomed."

Severus tilted his head. "He'll be even more doomed if he doesn't rise to the occasion before his eighteenth birthday."

"He can't help that he needs to be emotionally connected. Some people really need that," Hermione said sadly. "I certainly did."

Severus rubbed her back. "Normally, I would say that is something that should be cherished. I find myself conflicted when it comes to our son as it puts him in grave danger from otherworldly threats. We could have, I suppose, raised them both under the radar, as the Muggles say, but then it would have taken away so much of their freedom growing up. And despite the danger, a danger which he is well aware of, we cannot force him in this. We could end up creating the next Tom Riddle in whatever child were to be conceived in that manner. We can only protect him as we can for as long as we are able."

"And hope," Hermione said.

Severus pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Perhaps, she is the one, my love. Of all the people he has danced around, this one he actually brought home to meet us."

Hermione's fingers curled in his chest hair as she smiled. "We found each other. We can believe in a little fate."

"You could have told me!" Desdemona cried, flinging her arms up in the air. "So, your parents are in a poly relationship! They are obviously happy! How could you blindside me like that!"

"I didn't mean to blindside you! I was going to tell you, but it wasn't like there was ever a great opportunity to tell you 'Hey, by the way, I have three dads!"

"Three?" Desdemona trailed off, her mind doing the math and coming up with an error message. She seemed to realise where the third came from with a startled blink.

David slumped. "Yes."

"But, they are happy, right?"

David jerked his head. "Of course they are!

"I mean it's a little odd that Mr Santi is your butler—"

"He just likes to play the role. He's really good at it."

"Oh." She scratched her head. Her face scrunched with annoyance. "But your sister? How can you not tell me you had a sister! Does she attend a rival school or something?"

"Not exactly. She goes to a special boarding school in Scotland," David replied. "We only ever meet up during the hols."

"You could have told me!"

"I—" David slumped. "My family is really strange to most people, Mona. Even amongst the crowds they associate with, they kind of stand apart from everyone else."

"But, they're happy, and they didn't abuse you—"

"No! Never!" David exclaimed. "They kept Solange and me from killing each other, usually."

"You don't get along with your sister?"

"It's pretty complicated." He sighed and rubbed his neck with one hand. "We've always been like—rivals. Dad said we've been fighting since we were arguing over mum's teat." He blinked and looked horrified. "I'm sorry, that's like way too much information!"

Desdemona shook her head. "I'd rather you tell me than not tell me anything!"

David slumped again. "Right, sorry." He looked chagrined. "I love my sister, and she loves me, but we're—Mum says we're like fire in a library. We're polar opposites. Sometimes it's like—I have to work so hard and do things with my hands, and she just, she just NNGH! Waves her hand and magic happens." He looked her in the eyes. "Mona, I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you all about them, but I was afraid they'd be so out there to you that you'd end up thinking I was a freak."

"My dad is a bit of a mad scientist," Desdemona confessed into her lap. I mean he's a doctor like I said, but—he was determined to separate the vices of a person from the good."

"So, he's a psychologist?" David replied, looking confused. "They're all a bit mad, yeah?"

"Not quite," she replied, frowning. "It's like I had two dads. One was the sweetest and most understanding dad you could ever have. Never raised his voice. Never once failed to explain why you were in trouble. But then he'd become super angry and physical. Like a totally different person. He'd lock himself up in the laboratory all night, and mum would tell us never to go in there at night. Well, ever."

"Dissociative identity disorder?"

"He'd change."

"Clothes?"

"Everything. He'd become a different person. A person who wasn't my dad. Wasn't married. He had emotions, but they were often the most horrible ones. He'd have temper tantrums and destroy the lab, and mum would have to help him clean up in the morning. When he was better. When he was my dad again."

David tilted his head. "This happened every night?"

Desdemona shook her head. "No. Sometimes Dad would just leave the dinner table all of a sudden. Mum said he had to go away for a while. Once, when I was really young, I heard him yelling through the door and was about to open it. I almost did—Mum stopped me, and I heard this crash against the door and foul language calling her a whore. Mum was in tears, but she took back to my room and told me that Daddy wasn't himself."

She looked at David. "So, I guess. What I'm trying to say is. I understand not wanting to try to explain about your family. I don't want you to think we were abused. My parents love each other. Love me. My entire family is pretty eccentric. In comparison, I'm just a perfectly normal, ordinary Desdemona. My mum raised chupacabras. I just wanted a golden retriever. I once asked for a bird, and dad got me a vulture. I wanted a cat, and my Uncle got me a lion. I just wanted a calico or maybe a nice little— what do you call them? Moggie? I once had to raise a plant for my class project, and my aunt gave me a strangler plant—that actually tried to strangle the poor mailman."

David's eyebrows lifted together.

"What did you have as a pet?" she asked.

"My dad collects—strays."

"Oh! Mehall?"

"No, not Mihail," David corrected. "Severus."

"Oh, well he definitely doesn't seem the type to have pets."

David rubbed the space between his eyes with his fingers. "He has a lot of hidden aspects that few see."

"Well I can understand having a dad with different personalities," Desdemona said.

"It's more that he collects things."

"So, he's a hoarder?"

"Not—quite?"

"That sounds complicated."

"My family is seriously complicated," David admitted. "Part of why I haven't said much about them is that they are very difficult to describe and not have them sound—completely mental."

"I can relate," she replied with a gusty sigh. "Really. I tried to take one of my mum's chupacabras to school for show and tell. It didn't go all that well. That was before I realised they weren't exactly normal pets."

"We have a friend of the family who's like that. Her name is Luna. She and her husband Rolf travel the world collecting all kinds of strange and unusual magical creatures."

"Luna Lovegood?" Desdemona said with disbelief. "That's who sold my mum her first chupacabras!"

David blinked. "You know her?"

Desdemona blinked and then smiled. "The Lovegoods have been good friends with our family for, well, forever."

"Th—they have?" David asked, his face concerned.

"They're magical, like my aunt Morticia," Desdemona said. "They were really hoping I'd be like her." She looked down at her hands. "Not a drop of magic in me."

"Me either," David said.

Desdemona smiled. "I think that's why we get on so well," she said. "We're both—"

"Normal."

"Yeah."

David let out a long sigh. "You have no idea how glad I am you know about magic."

"Yeah, I was wondering how that conversation was going to go when you saw my aunt smoking."

"Smoking isn't magical."

"She smokes from the ground up," Desdemona said.

"Oh," David said. "Okay, that's definitely magical."

She smiled with a shrug. "Not all of my family are magical, but they are all talented in odd areas."

"Odd areas?"

"My cousin, Wednesday, shoots arrows into random windows of the house to practice her aim. They have a tree named Ichabod that takes a shine to her. It tries to cheer her up by throwing her brother across the yard."

David arched a brow. "Sounds like the Whomping Willow my parents tell me stories about."

"Pugsley, her brother, throws weapons at the dinner table to try and hit his father, but Uncle Gomez is always too quick for him."

"Sounds fatal," David said. "My parents always encouraged me to be safe about things. There is too much out there that is dangerous enough. Sis and I— we keep trying to murder each other, but it never starts out that way. We just get into fights, and she's all magical and I'm not, so I have to be physical, and she once stuck me to the ceiling with a permanent sticking charm. She got in so much trouble. I had to walk around with a piece of ceiling stuck to my arse for a week until my skin shed enough for it to fall off. They made Solange fix the ceiling without magic the Muggle way."

Desdemona's eyes widened. "That must have been uncomfortable. My aunt had to remove a few arrows from my bum because I couldn't dodge like a proper Addams," she confessed.

"They shot you?"

"Not on purpose. I was a horrible dodger."

"But, they actually shot at you."

Desdemona shrugged. "I learned to wear a tea tray under my trousers."

David scratched his head. "Oh."

Desdemona looked around. "This is the guest room?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, did you need a bigger room?"

Desdemona shook her head laughing. "This is bigger than my room at home, and I have to share that!"

David relaxed. "Oh, I thought it was missing something you needed."

"I'm fine, David," she replied. She touched the silk bed curtains thoughtfully. "I feel like a princess waiting for her prince. All I need is an enchanted spinning wheel."

"You want to fall into an enchanted sleep?"

"More that I wouldn't mind being woken with a kiss by my sweet prince."

David swallowed hard, his eyes staring at one of the patterns on the wall. "Do you have to be asleep before that to happen?"

"I'd rather be awake for my first kiss," she replied in a soft almost-whisper.

David's head jerked around, eyes wide. "Yours too?"

Desdemona blushed. "I mean, I've read things. In books."

David took a tentative step towards her and grimaced. "I would."

"Read books?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean—" David winced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'd kiss you— if you wanted me to."

Desdemona's pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes. "I'd want that and more."

David's worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "You would? I mean. With me?"

"Unless you're not actually David Sanguini," Desdemona replied.

"I—" He stammered, his brows trying to form a unibrow in his awkward flailing about.

"David."

"Mona—"

"Kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am." He pressed his lips to hers as she pulled him down onto the silken sheets with a giggle.

Sanguini sipped his bloody mary with a serene expression on his face as Snape mauled an innocent fender to death in the garden. One hand curled around his wife's hand as their fingers and talons wove together in solidarity.

"At least we won't have to explain to the Elders Tilmun and Radu why our son is still bait for sacrificial altars, my love," he said with a smile as he leaned in for a kiss.

Hermione flushed as Mihail's kiss deepened as he shared blood with his mate. He caressed her hair with his fingers, enjoying her soft moan of approval.

She pulled away with a hum, her tongue flicking across her lips as she stared into his eyes. "I love you."

"Woe unto me if this was not so," Sanguini purred, his hand closing around hers once more. "We should prepare for the elders' arrival for dinner," he said with a sigh, tilting his head slightly as the sound of bones realigning made a slight cracking sound. "I told them to arrive a few hours later than we originally planned to give the love birds some time to, well, love each other."

Hermione snorted as she stole a sip from Mihail's drink.

He gave her an amused look in return.

"I suppose we should prepare," Hermione said in mock depression. She smiled as Snape tore into the other side of the fender he was working on and made horrible crunching sounds. "Ah, romance."

Snape spat out a piece of taillight and random electrical cords.

Sanguini pressed a kiss to his mate's temple. "Our dear love would rather not pay attention to his hellfiend ears, I think," he said with no little amusement.

"Pity the silencing charms cannot fool the dreadful hellfiend," Hermione said.

Sanguini smiled. "Fortunately, the fender distracts our love and does not cause the potions laboratory to explode. Our Severus would be beside himself."

Hermione laughed as Snape brought her a piece of crunched fender, his tails wagging wildly. She threw it, and the hellfiend went tearing off after it with hellish glee, a pack of excited hell puppies scrambling to get to it first only to be disappointed as the master of fender acquisition achieved superiority.

Mihail smiled, a glint of fang showing.

Unlife was good.

Desdemona was thankful that the guest quarters had its own ensuite bathroom as she exited with a fresh change of clothing and a shower without having to sneak into an outside hall-room to clean up. The hall was empty, and she sighed with relief.

David had sneaked out while she was showering, and she was happy that she wouldn't have to confront any of his family with the spontaneous act of bunking up with her boyfriend. It was odd that David seemed far more worried about the family dog knowing what they were up to than his parents, but she figured maybe his dog was just super sensitive like her sorority sister's little mutt that wanted to believe he was a big dog but everything kept proving otherwise. The poor thing was afraid of shadows, movement, strangers, boys— the latter leading to Desdemona dogsitting the obnoxious little yapper just so her owner could spend time alone with the boyfriend.

A movement of shadow caused her to startle as a feminine figure walked toward the far hall.

"You. We need to talk." The figure had a spaded tail and the shadow of small wings on her back.

Desdemona hesitated.

"Now," the figure said, their tail beckoning in a distinct come hither motion.

Desdemona gulped and followed, wondering if she was walking to her doom or something worse. If it was like visiting her aunt and uncle, it could be both at the same time.

She walked into a room that eerily seemed as though she'd stepped back in time. Antique writing desks, ink pots, quills, and parchment rolls lay about, one massive wall of books took up every bit of space on one side of the room, and the other seemed quite like her father's laboratory complete with glassware, Erlenmeyer flasks, spirit lamps, hygrometers, condensers, steam kettles, funnels, scales, flint strikers, cauldrons, stirring rods, and Bunsen burners.

The "laboratory" part of the room seemed sectioned off, and an oddly modern-looking exhaust hood was positioned over the work area to keep it clear of noxious fumes. But, where a bank of electronic displays would normally have been, runic symbols glowed and hovered over the hood with definite magic.

An owl hooted as she came in, its talons digging deep into the perch as she walked by.

"Don't mind Archimedes," the female said. "He's being all fussy because I didn't let him out to eat the cat that was yowling on the fence outside." She sat down on the settee and gestured for Desdemona to sit. "I'm Solange. The sister I'm sure he's told you about."

"Actually, he sort of left you out until recently," Desdemona confessed. "He wasn't sure how to explain the magical demon-vampire sister to a Muggle."

"The coward," Solange hissed, a glint of fangs flashed. "Well, I'm presuming you sorted that out since you fell into bed with each other."

Desdemona flushed bright red.

Solange waved her hand dismissively. "It's sex, not the pox. I'm rather glad he found someone he was finally willing to be emotionally attached to, someone that he remembered he had a cock."

Solange took in a deep breath. "So, do you love him?"

"Very much."

"Hrm, well. I still feel I need to impress upon you that if you should hurt him, I will tear you to pieces with agonising slowness until you beg for death." Solange's expression did not change, but her tongue flicked across her teeth and made a thhking sound.

"He told me that you usually try to murder each other."

"True, but that's between us. I promise you, if you hurt him, I will murder you." Solange's eyes seemed to flash golden.

"Duly noted," Desdemona sighed. "I'm kind of glad he has someone looking out for him. He can be a bit oblivious."

"Very," Solange agreed. "It's why we fight so much."

"I am not out to hurt him," Desdemona said. "I care for him. I cannot promise never to hurt him any more than he can promise that something he does will never hurt me, but I can promise that I will never intentionally set out to cause him pain. I—" She stared helplessly at the array of colourful bubbling liquids in the nearby cauldrons. "I love him."

"Love is chemistry," Solange said, arching a slim brow. "So what do you plan to do with it?"

"Chemistry? Is that all it is to you?"

"All? No," Solange replied. "Chemistry is just about getting your foot in the door. The start of something greater or the downfall."

"Surely your parents are about more than just chemical reactions—"

Solange laughed, her fangs flashing. "They have powerful chemistry, make no mistake. Their bond is much more than that. The trust borne of a thousand touches. Countless intimacies of mind and soul. I can only hope to find someone and have a fraction of what my parents have in but one person. To ask for any more is— unrealistic. I know I can only obsess over one person. I know myself. My love for books and potions take the place of at least two people. It will take an understanding sort to share with me my love for knowledge."

"I like your wings," Desdemona said suddenly. "May I, erm, touch them?"

Solange extended one for her to touch. "Sure. They aren't full-grown though. Dad says they won't be for another hundred years or so. Give or take. He says it depends on what world I choose as my anchor."

Desdemona stroked the wing gently. "Wow, they're really cool."

Solange flashed a smile. "David was always jealous of my tail."

"Is it prehensile?"

"Of course!" Solange said. "They wouldn't be half as useful otherwise!"

The pair laughed together.

"So, how do you hide it? My family is pretty kooky, but they look perfectly human. People don't always treat them right even then. They are afraid, usually, or blame them for their own problems." Desdemona soothed Solange's wing with her hands.

"I wear a bracelet," Solange said. "It has a spell-glamour on it that cannot be dispelled. I can turn it on and off. That way, no random spell can wash over me and reveal my family secret to everyone. My family's a bit unique even in the magical world. Even where magic is normal, I still prefer to wear glamour. Less staring. Less need to murder someone for staring."

"I think you look beautiful," Desdemona said admiringly. "And you have your mum's eyes and hair."

"Hah! It isn't as sentient as mum's, though," Solange said. "So— what did my older brother of five minutes tell you about us?"

"He kind of got distracted—" Desdemona flushed pink.

Solange smiled, a glint of fang showing. "Let me fill in all the blanks…"

"Ah, Miss Frump," Hermione said warmly as she stood in the garden. "The sun is setting. Will you join me?"

Desdemona tilted her head. Hermione was wearing a blindfold over her eyes as she stood so very still. It was almost like she was a statue.

"The blindfold helps me see without the distraction of sight," Hermione said. "There was a time when I lived in complete darkness, and it taught me that some senses are best used when vision is not a part of it." Hermione tilted her head as she seemed to listen intently.

Strange bat-like creatures flew around her head, chittering and squeaking excitedly, and Hermione smiled as one landed in her hair and squeaked up a conversation that seemed one-sided. Hermione smiled, pulling out some sort of garden pepper, and the creature cheereeked with delight and gobbled it down, licked her nose, and flew off being jealously chased by the others.

Hermione laughed as she seemed to look at Desdemona with amusement even with the blindfold on. "So, you and my son have come to an agreement."

Desdemona swallowed hard. How does she know?

Hermione tapped the blindfold. "Some things have a feel the eyes cannot see. When I was much younger, I judged with my eyes far too often. I crusaded against things I did not understand with my heart, only my eyes. Sometimes, I put the blindfold on to remind myself to look beyond what I can see to truly understand. So, how long have you and my son been— serious?"

Desdemona wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. "Since we met, really. We just—clicked. Sophomore year. He was always so considerate. Proper to me. It was—sort of a relief, really. Everyone else seemed to be interested in getting knackered or laid." She gasped as her hand went to her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

Hermione chuckled, her hand resting on the neck of the huge dog that had appeared under her hand. It shoved his head under her palm even as it glared at Desdemona with nothing less than a canine scowl. "I am glad my son was able to wait for the one he loved. It is somewhat of a rarity in today's times as I understand."

Desdemona flushed slightly.

"While my son did not get himself knackered, as you say, it was not for lack of trying," Hermione said grimly. "It was one of his true idiocies that had him contemplating his life choices in the garden tree."

The dog next to Hermione growled as if in agreement.

A planter somewhere in the garden fell and shattered with a crash. Hermione's mouth twisted into an amused smile.

"But we all have our faults," Hermione said with a sigh. "His, at least, did not kill him or land him as a sacrifice to an Elder God.

"Do you believe in Elder Gods?" Desdemona asked quietly.

"Whether I believe or not is rather unimportant as the threat from those that do all manner of deeds for their favour will still exist regardless of my belief," Hermione said. "You stand there whether I see you or not. Who is to say what greater, unfathomable things lurk in the shadows of the unknown caring not whether I believe in them or not?"

Desdemona, having seen quite a few odd things in her lifetime, nodded and then realised the gesture was lost on someone with a blindfold on. The dog, however, stared into her as if weighing her worth.

"I was not always so philosophical," Hermione confessed, her hand soothing the canine's ears. The great beast licked her hand gently, nosing her fingers. "There are many things I have had to learn as I go," she said with a chuckle. "I'm sure there are more adaptable people than I— but I'd like to think that I have become more so due to various trials."

The watchful dog licked Hermione's hand and shoved his head under her hand for attention, and she smiled. After giving the dog attention and an ear rub, she removed her blindfold, wincing slightly as her eyes seemed to adjust to the light. She tucked away the fabric and stretched. "So, how do you like England?"

"I love it, really," Desdemona replied. "It's been very nice to be in a different place, and I've developed a bit of a love affair with the different foods. I never had steak and kidney pie, Eton Mess, a full English breakfast, or even a Cornish pastie."

Hermione tilted her head. "I'd imagine being similarly baffled by American foods and culture."

Desdemona smiled. "I guess every place is exotic if you have never been there."

Hermione smiled, amusement causing a chuckle and a slight smirk to spread into her smile. "Sometimes exotic is a way of life so normal seems strangely surreal."

Desdemona put her hand to her chest. "So true," she said quietly. "It's why I really clicked with David. It's like he understands what it's like to be normal."

Hermione sniffed, and the dog beside her seemed to scowl at Desdemona until Hermione's hand soothed his ears. "I think David understands how hard it is to be one's self when those around him seemingly excel at so many different things. He has no absence of talent, my son, but he often lacks the sense to see what he is doing well at and instead tries to show the world he can do everything at once."

Another crash of a broken planter hitting the ground caused the dog to stand and growl menacingly.

A pack of highly hyperactive and inspired puppies stormed by and made a beeline into the shrubberies, and David came out yelling, rubbing his rear end as he tried to escape the nips and tearing teeth of the puppy pack only to end up high in the biggest tree in the garden. "I'm sorry!" he whinged. I know I should eavesdrop!"

Desdemona looked embarrassed and then angry. "You're SPYING on me?!"

"Yes!" David cried. "I mean no! I mean—I wanted to make sure mum didn't use any mind tricks on yo—" His eyes widened as he realised the hole was in just grew to be the size of Jupiter's eye.

"David."

"Oh god." David's face grew very, very pale as he turned his head to see Sanguini standing at the entrance to the garden.

He snapped his fingers and the puppies immediately stopped their barking and clawing and disappeared into the garden shadows.

"Walk with me," Mihail said, his voice almost too smooth to be heard over a whisper. "Now."

David practically slid out of the tree on his arse and stiffly walked to his father's side. "Yes, father."

"Apologise to your mother."

"I'm sorry, Mum," he whimpered.

"I don't even know you, David," Hermione said, the crimson ring around her gold eyes flaring brightly. She stood and walked in the other direction.

The great dog at her side growled menacingly at David, then looked to Hermione, then looked to Sanguini, and growled even louder, taking off after Hermione.

David stared into his father's face and swallowed hard having never seen Mihail's face so cold or impassive as it was. It was like stone with no hint of life. Cold, with no hint of pity.

They walked together until the garden was far behind them. The cold was chilly, but the vampire showed no indicator that he felt anything. The further they went in silence, the worse David felt.

By the time they reached the coast, David's teeth were trying to chatter.

Sanguini picked up a stone and transfigured it into a cloak, tossing it to him, but his expression did not change in the slightest.

David put on the cloak and tried to heat back up. "I'm sorry!"

"Are you?"

David's lip trembled. "I really am!"

"Have we not provided for you?"

"Yes."

"Have we not given you opportunity and tolerance in choosing your own path in life?"

"Yes."

"Have we ever, even once, influenced you with our powers or magic in any way that was not directly saving your life from something you could not possibly save yourself from?"

"No, Father."

"Has your mother ever. Ever. Used her vampire powers on a guest in our home?"

"No, Father."

"Then why, my son, would you accuse her, my lady wife, your mother, of something so disgusting as mind rolling her son's love interest?"

"I—I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't. Thinking." Mihail's voice had a rumble of venom on it, the sort that normally came from Severus. At that moment, David knew that the bond between his parents was highly charged and active.

"I want to protect her!" David said.

"From what?"

"Everything!"

"No one can protect anyone from everything," Sanguini said. His jaw was tight. "There is a reason there is a vampire council and not a king or a queen. No one person can be everywhere at once. Eventually, you have to trust that your people can stand on their own and that they will not spontaneously combust the moment you stop watching them. You have to have people you trust to watch you back rather than stab it. To be an island is a lonely existence. And you—"

David cringed as his father's golden eyes fixated on him. The crimson ring around the irises glowed brightly as his power flared across his eyes. He'd always known his father was powerful in the supernatural and magical world, but he'd always known his father to be fair and even-keeled.

But if there was any weakness his father had—

It was his mate.

And that was a weakness shared by all three of his fathers.

His mum was their anchor— the glue that had brought them together.

And he'd just cast a stone at her character.

His mum had never once claimed to be perfect. She had always told him and Solange that living life was about adapting to change and getting up when you failed. Her greatest fear as a child had been letting adults down. It had made her a ball of nerves when faced with something she couldn't do perfectly the first time like "everyone expected her to."

It had taken the years after the war— after surviving everything thrown at her— to learn that it was okay to fail. Not everything was life and death. Not every failure was going to kill someone. It was okay to be wrong, but to think you couldn't be wrong and couldn't ever fail—

That, she had said was the downfall of a person that could and would ultimately fail. Those who deemed themselves perfect were fatally flawed.

"I didn't mean to say it like that," David said. "Mum's never… You've never… I—"

He floundered. Public speaking had always been so easy. Grades. Easy. Classes. Easy. Not getting drunk. Easy.

It wasn't doing him a lick of help in this arena, though.

"I wanted to be something for her. For her, I can be normal and still be something special to her. I didn't want her to think I was just a failure in my own family. If she finds out how normal I am? What interest will hold her to me if she's surrounded in—" David hung his head. "Our family is exceptional in everything. Once she realises that, what good is being normal?"

Mihail looked out over the ocean surf, his eyes glowing in the darkness. "Do you know why we do not Turn children, ever?"

David frowned. "I always believed it was because they couldn't grow up. They'd be adults trapped in little bodies like in ``Interview With A Vampire."

Sanguini snorted. "No, it is because it preserves whatever you are as you are, potential, flexibility, lack of, strengths, weaknesses. It is always your baseline. An adult is, for the most part, locked into their potential. Their talent may be yet untapped and waiting to be discovered and nurtured, but it is there waiting. A child is undeveloped. Unstable. Inexperienced. Unable to fathom eternity. Death. Truth. Not as an adult must. And not every adult does."

Mihail took in a breath, a habit of humanity that few vampires ever left behind. "A vampire child can never be more than a child. Ever. A talented child, but always a child. Mind and body. Never mature. Never able. The imbalance of the brain chemistry—" He tapped his head with one taloned finger. "Frozen in time, forever in disarray. Think of the time you are in now and imagine this feeling for the next five hundred years. Making mistakes and never able to overcome them because your brain is still a mixed bag of chemicals, unstable and trying to become stable. Imagine a toddler never able to be more than a toddler. You can have a very smart toddler, but a toddler will never stand toe to toe with a master of Arithmancy, philosophise with the great minds of the world, be a doctor or healer, find great planets unknown, or pit themselves in the arena of diplomacy."

"For the same reason, we do not Turn those infirm of mind, for no manner of supernatural strength will compensate for the lack of it," Sanguini said. "There is a sweet spot in the Turning. A time when it is right and when it is long gone. And when a vampire makes the mistake of Turning the wrong one at the wrong time, the Council sends me to correct it. Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

David, pale, having just realised that his father was actually an assassin, shook his head. "To scare me straight?"

Mihail snorted. "No, my son. I tell you this because you have infinite possibilities to become more than you are. Never frozen. Never limited by the time you made your choices. You have the gift of mortality. Your sister, talented as she is, is bound by the rules of the world she chooses to make her home. If she decides upon the domain of Hell, then she must abide by those rules. If she chooses here, then she must follow the rules this world has for the people she must live with. Magical. Muggle. Otherly. Raka'ku'santi and Severus are limited by the Bind. Your mum must follow the rules of Bind and Contract. I the Bind and the Council. You are free to choose your path. Create new laws. Make your world as good or as bad as your effort puts forth. Can you not see how much of a gift that is to be 'normal'?"

David hung his head. "I've always thought I had it worse than anyone in the family."

"No, my son," Mihail said grimly. "You are the freest of us all."

David winced and slumped. "I'm an idiot."

"Tonight. Yes," Sanguini agreed. "Be better. Now, go find your mother and apologise like you mean it."

David nodded and scurried back up the path as his father continued to watch over the pounding surf and let out the breath he'd been holding onto.

Sanguini walked over to join Hermione, Severus, and Raka'ku'santi as they sat in the garden together. David, Solange, and Desdemona were toasting marshmallows over a fire. Desdemona was trying to teach Solange the art of s'mores construction, and flaming marshmallows were apparently her speciality.

"Hello, my loves," Sanguini purred as he snuggled into the group.

Severus budged over for him to embrace Hermione from the back, and Severus, in turn, wrapped his arms around them both. Raka'ku'santi rumbled appreciatively as he pulled them into his winged embrace, happy to no longer have to hide his true form in the face of company— especially when cuddling was on the docket.

"All forgiven?" Mihail asked.

Severus grunted, but Hermione let out a sigh and shook her head. "It just hurt he'd accuse me like that. I was unprepared for how much that hurt." She snuggled into them with half-lidded eyes. "But he is forgiven. He is our son, and he will make mistakes as we all do. I just have to remember that even his smooth tongue can fail him in the face of love."

"He probably gets that bit of inadequacy from me," Severus said without bitterness. "Love always made me its fool."

"You got better," Sanguini said with a smug smile.

"Hardly, I just found three beings in the world that were willing to tolerate my failings for life," Severus said.

"And your successes, love," Hermione said, looking up at him with a smile.

He looked down at her, his hair framing his pale face. His eyes glowed as the Bind flowed between them. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Hermione said, her face serene and content. She pulled Raka'ku'santi's wings around her and thus around them all. "I couldn't imagine a life without you all in it. Sharing success and missteps, love, and two children who have miraculously not murdered each other."

Mihail snuffled into her mane of curls. "The Bind may have been forced upon us, but it was fortuitous and right for us. I am glad to be here, with you three, here, now, and in the future. Lifetimes will not seem so dismal and predictable with such companions to share one's life."

"Whoever thought that being cursed into a hellfiend would bring me eternal satisfaction?" Severus drawled. "I hope Lily is enjoying her magic-free life."

"She could, you know, defeat Jirrak'vu'nari's curse by finding happiness in what she has and not what she has lost, but that is the problem most mortals have, yes?" Raka'ku'santi rumbled. "She will forever suffer for what she believes should have been hers instead of making good on what she has been dealt. That is the difference, love. You found us in spite of your condition. You allowed yourself to let go of what you believed yourself fated to deserve and instead embraced what you were given. It is why we can sit here now in our heated embraces, content in our lives."

Raka'ku'santi closed his eyes. "And our Hermione— she accepted all of us into her heart, her soul. She is the balm and the glue of our most rare and precious Bind. So tell me, my loves, now that so many years have passed. What fate do we give the one who set this all in motion? This Ronald Bilius Weasley, fallible mortal, ineffective coper, half-decent but financially idiotic Auror, sower of questionable seeds, decent aquarium fish, pitiful excuse of a father to an uncounted many?"

Hermione snuggled into the warmth of her mates' embrace. "Let him live a long, long life," she said as she watched her children and Desdemona laughing and throwing logs on the fire. "With whatever time he might have left. Maybe he, too, can find satisfaction with what he has been given instead of what he doesn't have."

"Hn," Severus murmured thoughtfully. "Sounds perfect to me."

"Spoken like a true immortal," Sanguini said, placing a tender kiss upon her throat.

"Spoken like a true demon," Raka'ku'santi purred, his eyes glowing darkly in the night. He smiled serenely as he snapped his fingers. "May you live in interesting times, Ronald Bilius Weasley, for a very long Wizarding lifetime."

As they watched the children dance and laugh around the magic-enhanced bonfire, the hell puppies frolicking around their feet, in a bed located in St Mungos' Janus Thickney ward, Ronald Weasley woke up and screamed.

Hermione and her Bind savoured their well-earned peace as their children found their place in the world, one day at a time.

"I will fucking MURDER you!" Solange yelled as she launched herself at David who was trying to steal the last of the marshmallows.

Meanwhile, Desdemona artfully dodged, speared a marshmallow, and toasted it over the fire to golden perfection.

"She'll fit in just fine," Sanguini said, his tongue flicking across his fangs.

Raka'ku'santi made a new bag of marshmallows appear and levitated it over to Desdemona's side along with a stack of graham crackers and a bowl of chocolate frogs. The sounds of the two siblings attempting their best to commit homicide caused a feral smile to cross the demon's face.

"It wouldn't be family with attempted fratricide," Severus said with a sniff, his eyes half-lidded as Sanguini wreaked a bit of havoc on his neck with his practised mouth.

Elders Tilmun and Radu appeared beside them, each holding a crystal wine glass filled with a deep crimson liquid with strangely cute-looking tiny coloured marshmallows bobbing in it. They both sat down together, sipping thoughtfully. "Far more true than you know, Severus. At least neither of them shall reach an end quickly as sacrifices to an Elder God. That is always such a messy and terribly melodramatic end."

"Elder Radu, do you care to place a wager on the children of two such interesting normals?" Tilmun asked, his face strangely serene.

"Of course, Tilmun," Radu replied. "What is but immortality without something to tickle our sense of surprise."

"Three children, two appealing normal to the parents. One that takes a bit from her grandparent's bloodlines," Tilmun said.

"Three children. One normal, one a little hellion, and one that develops a taste for blood as an adult," Radu countered.

The two elders clinked their glasses together.

"Do we get a say in this?" Hermione asked.

"I fear not, child," the elders said with fanged smiles. "Feel free to make your own bets. We will of course revisit the lines of Solange when she finally decides her true path in life."

"That could take an entire lifetime," Severus mused.

"Mmm," Raka'ku'santi said. "Good thing we all have plenty of time then." His spaded tail looped with amusement.

"For now, let us simply enjoy the moment as mortals do," Elder Radu said. "That in itself is something to be treasured."

Hermione began to chuckle, and her mates all turned to look at her with curious stares. She smiled from ear to ear. "Just thinking."

"Thinking is usually not accompanied by such curiously suspicious chuckling, my Vari," Raka'ku'santi said.

Hermione grinned. "Tomorrow, my parents are visiting."

Severus let out a low, growling chuckle. "Excellent. Let the Trials of David and Desdemona reach level two."

"Also the Trial of Solange, who must somehow convince my in-laws that she's not hiding a boyfriend or girlfriend from them."

Sanguini laughed, startling one of the hell puppies. He took in an exaggerated breath and let it out. He lifted a glass of his own. "To life, my cherished mates, my treasured friends."

Glasses clinked as they sipped their respective drinks, and the moon smiled down upon the most glorious garden of the Sanguinis.

Life was very good, and it was only getting better with age.

Fin.

A/N: Thank you for supporting my detour into a different pairing. It was a fascinating ride that refused to go any other way. I hope you enjoyed it.

Happy Thanksgiving, Americans.

For those of you who are not, may you have something you are truly thankful for, regardless of the date.